


The Dress

by Jamie_Douglas



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Light BDSM, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie_Douglas/pseuds/Jamie_Douglas
Summary: Takes place after Season 2 of Gotham. Alfred's SAS past comes back to haunt him in the form of a raven-haired temptress.





	The Dress

Chapter 1

Alfred gave the top of the walnut desk one last polish just as he heard the front doorbell ring. It was 10 pm and Master Bruce was already in bed, having spent most of the previous night in the cave, reading through his father’s papers. Whoever it was, the loyal butler thought, he would get rid of them, and quick. Master Bruce would not be disturbed. He rushed across the marble floor, making sure his footfalls were light. When he opened the door, a woman smiled up at him. 

“Alfred. It’s good to see you.” 

She looked like she was in her late forties but was still quite beautiful, with long, wavy raven-black hair, deep green eyes, and porcelain skin. She wore a tight-fitting red cocktail dress and strappy, three-inch heels and carried a leopard-skin handbag over one arm. 

“I’m sorry, Madam, have we met? Master Bruce is unable to see visitors right now, I’m afraid. Perhaps if you come back tomorrow--” He started to close the door again, but she pushed it open with a jewel-covered hand.

“I’m not here to see Bruce Wayne, Alfred. You really don’t remember me?” 

Alfred took a step back and surveyed the woman on the porch. She was about 5 foot 7, and her accent was faintly Irish. He had a sudden sick feeling in his stomach. 

When he didn’t speak, she went on: “You were in the SAS, stationed in Ulster. Surely you remember that?” 

He swallowed hard. “I wish I could forget.” 

“Me or Ulster?” She smiled. “Are you going to let me in?”

He hesitated, but finally opened the door wide for her, then closed it as she moved into the grand entryway of Wayne Manor. His suspicious eyes roamed over her, searching for clues to this woman’s motivations. Her clothes suggested wealth, and perhaps social standing, though not a terribly respectable kind. She probably wasn’t after money. She’d said she was there for him, but she could easily be lying, trying to distract him while she planned something terrible for young Bruce. He resolved to be wary. To let her know that he wasn’t going to be friendly, he said, “I knew a lot of women when I was in Ulster. They tend to blur together in my mind.” 

The woman wrinkled up her nose at this, but went on. “It was after a particularly nasty raid on an IRA stronghold. You came into the pub and sat at the back, at a table by yourself, with your head in your hands. I watched you drink four whiskies before I went over to you. You bought me some drinks, and then we went up to a room…You had some trouble--”

“Bollocks!” He interrupted her. “I could always hold my drink. I never once had…performance difficulties. So I know you’re lying.” His cheeks were red.

She stepped towards him and rested a hand on his right shoulder. “No, you misunderstand me. You just weren’t in the mood… You told me about all the people you’d killed that night, and you cried in my arms… It wasn’t until afterwards that we finally went to bed. And you had no trouble at all.” 

Alfred looked hard at her. “You’re…”

“Danny. That’s what I was called then.” 

He did remember—bits of it. His time in Ulster really was a blur. Like an old movie he’d watched years ago, it all seemed quite disassociated from his real life. Yet he knew it was true. These were the times that had nearly driven him mad, the feelings that would have destroyed him if Thomas Wayne hadn’t come along to give him a new purpose in life. He didn’t want to return to those times, not even in memory. He stepped back from Danny, putting distance between himself and her. 

“What do you want?” he demanded. 

“You gave me something that night.” 

“Sorry--I hope you got that taken care of,” he quipped. 

She returned to the front door and opened it slightly. 

He followed her only with his eyes. “Where are you--?”

Then he saw. Slipping through the crack in the open door was a young boy, probably about thirteen years old, with dark blond hair and heavily lidded, bright blue eyes. Danny took the boy’s hand in hers and announced, “This is your son, Alfred Junior.” 

 

Chapter 2

Inside, Alfred was panicking, but he didn’t let it show. In his calmest voice, he said, “I don’t believe you.” 

Danny shrugged. She looked as though she’d been prepared for this response. “There’s an easy way to prove it—we’ll get a DNA test done.” 

“Why?”

“Why? If you really do have a son, don’t you want to know?”

I already do have a son, he thought. “Fine. We’ll do the test first thing tomorrow morning, at Gotham General. Now please—go.” 

He watched them leave, and bolted the door behind them. He walked into the library, sat down on a burgundy velvet couch, and sighed. What if this woman was telling the truth? It was entirely possible—in fact, probable—that he hadn’t been careful that night. He hadn’t been thinking of consequences, only of trying to erase the screams and the blood and the deafening rifle shots from his mind. He did a bit of mental calculation, and realized the timing fit. But if it was true, why hadn’t she told him earlier? Maybe she couldn’t find him until now. He’d returned to England two weeks later, and she’d have had no way of knowing where he went. So how did she find him here? He supposed he’d probably been seen on television, accompanying Master Bruce to some event or another. She must have recognized him. That would mean she had moved to Gotham. It wasn’t unheard of for a Northern Ireland girl to immigrate to the United States, but Alfred wondered if it was really a coincidence. Could she be working for someone—one of Gotham’s villains, perhaps—who wanted to separate Alfred from his young charge? He decided to speak to Jim Gordon about her. Maybe he and his partner could dig up some information on this Danny, to set his mind at ease. He picked up the phone and dialed. 

Jim answered right away. “Gordon here.” 

“Shouldn’t you be at home with Lee right now, Detective?”

“Hi, Alfred. How do you know I’m not?”

“Because you’re always working, aren’t you? Speaking of which, I’ve got a bit of a…delicate situation here, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me with it.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Nothing to do with Bruce, is it?”

“No, no, nothing to do with Master Bruce. He’s fine. At least, as fine as he can be.” 

“Okay…what is it then? What can I help you with, Alfred?” 

“Well, this might be the sort of thing best left to a face-to-face chat.”

“I’ll be right over.”

****  
When Gordon arrived, Alfred opened the door before Jim could reach the bell. “Let’s not wake Master Bruce,” he said, and ushered the detective in. 

“What’s this about, Alfred? You seem…upset.” Gordon followed Alfred into the library and sat down opposite him, a low, mahogany coffee table between them. 

Alfred started to rise again. “Shall I get us some tea?” 

“None for me, thanks.” 

He sat back down. Jim was staring at him, obviously waiting for an explanation. Alfred breathed deeply, then began. “I had a visitor tonight—a woman from my past. At least, I think she was…She brought me some…news. And I’m not sure whether I should trust her or not.” 

Gordon’s curiosity was piqued. This was the first time he’d ever heard of Alfred having anything to do with women. A romantic past? Alfred? He waited for the Englishman to continue.

“She told me…that I have a son.” 

“Oh! That’s—oh, my.” 

“Yes, exactly. So you see…”

“Did she tell you why you should believe her?”

“I saw him. She brought the boy with her. And she suggested a DNA test.”

“I see! And what did you say?”

“I agreed.” There was a long, awkward pause before Alfred spoke again. “Whatever the result is, my main concern is protecting Master Bruce. I need to know what kind of woman I’m dealing with, and whether she’s connected to any of Gotham’s unsavory types.” 

“Yes, yes of course. I can understand that. Okay then, I’ll help you all I can. Let’s start with the details. Her real name, age, family, occupation, anything you can tell me might help.”

Alfred shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any of that. It was only the one night, you see. All I know is that she went by the name Danny, but I get the impression that she doesn’t use that name anymore. Her accent is not strong, which suggests to me that she’s either trying to conceal or to change it, or she’s been living in America for several years now.” 

Gordon nodded slowly. He took out a small black notebook and a pen and scribbled a few things down. Then he stood and, offering his hand to the butler, said, “Don’t worry, Alfred. I’ll find out what this surprise visit is really all about.”

Alfred shook the proffered hand firmly. “Thank you, Jim. Thank you very much. It means a lot to me. I’ll see you out.” 

 

Chapter 3

It was 2:45 a.m. when Alfred heard a knock at the back door. He’d been lying in bed awake, tossing and turning and fretting. Now, he threw back the covers and stepped onto the cold floor. He reached for his robe, but it wasn’t where he normally left it, so he hurried down the stairs in nothing but a pair of white and blue-pinstriped cotton pyjama pants that hung loosely off his tall, lean frame. Before making his way to the kitchen door, he stopped at the library and pulled his revolver out of a desk drawer. He didn’t normally keep it where Bruce might find it, but he’d had a bad feeling before he retired that night, and was glad he’d thought to unlock it and stash it there. He took the safety off and pointed the gun in front of him as he stood to the side of the door’s small window, using the light from the outside lamp to see who was there. He exhaled with relief but didn’t lower his gun when he unlocked and threw open the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Danny was still wearing the red dress, only now she had what he hoped was a fake fur coat draped over it. She crossed the threshold and sat down at a kitchen stool. “I see you still know how to treat a lady.”

“Sarcasm becomes you, miss. Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but--”

The look on her face stopped his sentence. Her eyes were roaming over his naked torso, and a slight smile was forming at the corner of her mouth. She took in the firm, smooth muscles of his biceps, the powerful shoulders, and the downy grey hairs on his chest. Then the sparkling emerald eyes travelled down his stomach to rest on the slight bulge of his crotch, as if willing its fabric covering to disappear. 

He lowered his weapon. “Is that really what you came here for? I don’t believe it.”

“But?”

His voice was low and husky. “But I’m willing to test the theory…” With the gun still in his right hand, he bent over her and kissed her, his lips forcing hers apart. She shrugged out of her coat and it fell to the floor as they kissed. 

She paused for breath and ran a hand up his thigh. “Careful,” she whispered, “or that thing might go off.” 

Alfred laid the gun down on the island countertop and pushed it far enough away that she couldn’t reach it. Then he pulled her up to stand in front of him, reached behind her, and unzipped her dress. As the folds of red fell away from her body, a guttural noise caught in his throat. Expensive black lace underwear minimally concealed her curvaceous form. She sat back down on the stool and pulled him toward her. Her hands grasped the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and slowly pulled them down to reveal his quickly hardening cock. As her warm mouth enveloped him, he closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax. After a couple of minutes, he pulled away from her. 

“You’d better get your kit off.” 

She pulled her lace panties down and unclasped her bra, freeing the still-firm orbs from their wire trap. He took her nipples into his mouth one at a time, sucking hard. Then he lifted her onto the edge of the countertop in one easy motion. With his right knee, he spread her legs and inserted himself between them. He touched her there only once, to make sure she was ready. She meant nothing to him, but he wasn’t a man who liked to hurt women. Suddenly, he was thrusting inside her and she was moaning, wrapping her strong legs around his waist. 

“Alfred?” 

Alfred turned sharply at the small, inquisitive voice. There, in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, stood Bruce Wayne. His sleepy expression was confused. He tried to focus on the scene in front of him: The six-foot-tall butler, his mentor and parental figure, was standing naked at the island, and a woman was sitting on the counter in front of him. Bruce couldn’t understand, at first, why her legs were wrapped around him, feet with red-painted toenails dangling against the fifty-year-old’s bare buttocks. All of a sudden, he got it, and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry…” he mumbled, and turned to go.

“Master Bruce—shit!” Alfred roughly pushed Danny off of him, pulled up his pants, and followed the boy. “Master Bruce, I can explain—that is, I—we need to talk about this!” But Bruce was gone. He had run back up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. When Alfred returned to the kitchen, the woman called Danny was pointing his own gun at him. 

Chapter 4

“Now, now, Danny, you don’t want to do anything foolish. Let’s talk about this.”

“Yes, let’s talk.” The gun was still in both her hands. They were shaking, but they were levelling the weapon directly at his chest. “Let’s talk about what a rotten, dirty bastard you are!”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon me? Didn’t you just come to my kitchen and offer yourself to me? What exactly did I do to deserve such insults?”

Her voice quavered. “I don’t mean now. I mean, back then. In Ulster.” She was still completely naked, standing with her legs slightly apart, chest and chin thrust out. She was not ashamed of her body, and this was a matter of pride. She wasn’t going to let him forget what he’d done to her, how he’d played with her mind all these years. 

Alfred slowly walked toward her, holding a hand out for the gun. “Come on, Danny. Give me the gun. If I really treated you badly back then, then tell me about it. Whatever I said or did, I apologize. But we can’t have an honest discussion while you’re threatening to kill me. And I don’t want to hurt you.” He took another step forward and heard a click. His extended hand grabbed her right wrist and twisted her arm. She cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. It clattered onto the ceramic tile. Her head and shoulders drooped, and tears slid down her cheeks. Alfred retrieved the gun, tucking it into his waistband, and picked up her coat. Draping it around her trembling shoulders, he spoke to her in a soft, gentle voice. “Here, come sit with me in the library and tell me what you mean.” He kept his arm around her as they walked to the other room. He led her to a sofa and she sat down, pulling the coat tightly around herself. Then he drew her a glass of water from the nearby wet bar and handed it to her in a crystal tumbler. She sipped gratefully, and set it down. Seeing that she wasn’t keen to explain, Alfred cleared his throat and began for her.

“Look, Danny, I was a different man back then—a harder man. I’m sure you’re right about me, that I was a bit of a bastard. I probably slept with you and left before the sun came up, and you never heard from me again. I am sorry about that.” He wanted to add, But haven’t you had enough time to get over it? You’re a grown woman, for God’s sake!

She leaned towards him. “That was part of it, but not all. I knew it was a one-night stand. But you were such a mixture of emotions that night, such a Jekyll and Hyde, you really messed me up.”

“How d’you mean?”

She took another sip of the water. “I came over to you that night because you seemed so vulnerable, so lost. When we first got into the room, I spent a lot of time comforting you. I kissed you, and you kissed me back. You were so gentle…at first.” 

Alfred felt the sick feeling in his stomach return. He said nothing, but she continued. “We were making love. You were so sweet, whispering little things in my ear. But then, something changed. I don’t know why, but it was as if you—you snapped. You pulled me over so roughly, you grabbed me by the hair; you forced my arms up and held them so hard it left bruises that lasted for days. And worst of all, the things you said…” She looked up at him then, but he was looking out the window. He’d forgotten to shut it earlier. You’re slipping, Alfred. Don’t let her distract you. Nothing matters but Master Bruce’s safety. He walked over and closed the window and locked it, then stood there looking out on the dim early morning light through the sheer curtains. 

She got up and walked over to him, spun him around. “Look at me!” she shouted. “I know you couldn’t care less about me, but I need some closure here, and you’re going to listen to me!” 

He bowed his head and nodded silently, then returned to his seat. 

“You hurt me, Alfred. Physically and mentally. I didn’t deserve what you did to me, or the horrible things you said. You called me the vilest names imaginable, and you treated me like—no, worse than a common whore.” 

He finally looked her in the eye. “Danny, I’m so, so sorry. There’s no excuse for my behaviour—I know there isn’t. The army…had messed with me, too. It turned me into an animal, a monster. I’m so sorry you got caught up in that. You should never have tried to help me—I was already gone.”

She dismissed his words with a wave. “When it was over, when you’d had your fun, you changed back into Jekyll. You started to cry again, and to apologize. It was much the same explanation I’m getting now, only you probably actually meant it then. Or thought you did.” He looked as though he was going to protest, but she raised a hand to stop his words. “You kept asking me if I was all right, and telling me you loved me. Years later, I still wondered about it. I’ve never met anyone since who was that…damaged. You made an impression on me, Alfred. I really didn’t know whether to hate you or love you. But then you were gone, and I knew your words had meant nothing—none of them. A few weeks later, I realized I was pregnant. I’d been so traumatized by that night that I hadn’t been with anyone else. I knew it was your baby. If I hadn’t had Freddy, I might have gotten over you, you see.” 

Alfred’s eyes were full and glistening when he spoke. “Then why did you—why did you go through with it?”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You think I should have terminated the pregnancy? I was a Catholic girl, Alfred! And besides, some part of me wanted to hold on to you any way I could. I know that’s deranged, but it’s the truth.” 

He wanted to apologize again, but he knew nothing he said would make it any better. Instead, he sat next to her on the sofa and raised a hand to her face. She flinched, and he saw it. “I’m not going to hurt you, Danny. Not again.” He stroked away her tears with his fingers. Then his eyes hardened. “Unless you hurt Bruce.” 

 

Chapter 5

Breakfast that morning was an awkward affair. Alfred had told Danny he’d meet her at 9 am for the DNA test, but he didn’t go. He couldn’t go without speaking to Bruce about last night, and he didn’t want to wake him. Often, Alfred and Bruce would eat together in the kitchen, or sometimes Alfred would take the boy his food on a tray. Bruce hadn’t come down by 10 am, so Alfred prepared his young charge’s favourite food—pancakes and sausages—and brought it up the stairs to him. He balanced the heavy silver tray on one hand while he knocked at Bruce’s bedroom door. 

“Go away, Alfred!” a voice called from inside.

“Master Bruce, I’ve made pancakes for you.”

Silence.

“I’ll just leave the tray outside the door then, shall I?” 

More silence.

“Master Bruce, when you’re ready to talk to me, I’d like to apologize for my atrocious behaviour last night. I wasn’t thinking—obviously. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He still held the tray, hoping that Bruce would come and open the door. 

There was a moment of further silence before Bruce spoke, his voice muffled through the heavy door. “You’re a grown man, Alfred. I realize you—you have needs. I was just surprised, is all.”

“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t have seen that. Please open the door, Master Bruce.”

He waited for what seemed like minutes, and then the door handle turned. The door opened a crack. He pushed it open in time to see Bruce hurrying back into bed, covering his face with a blanket. Alfred set the tray down on a table near the window beside the bed. 

He sighed. Bruce had been so young when his parents had been killed—they probably hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about these things. The birds and the bees. Alfred wanted to sit on the bed and talk to Bruce like a father, but he knew his place. He stood in the far corner of the room and spoke to the blanket. 

“What you saw in the kitchen last night, Master Bruce, was completely inappropriate. It was very inappropriate of me to do such a thing in a public room in the house—in your house.” 

Bruce did not reply, so he went on. “I also think you should know that it was inappropriate for other reasons as well. When a man and a woman…that is to say…A person should really get to know someone before taking such drastic action. You should wait till you’re ready—till you’re both ready. And you should always make sure you are prepared.” He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a small box of condoms, and threw them onto the bed next to the blanket-covered lump. 

Bruce heard the soft thump as the box landed and peeked out from his hiding spot. When he saw what it was, he covered his head again. 

Alfred cleared his throat. “Right then.” 

Bruce heard Alfred leave the room, closing the door softly. 

Chapter 6

Detective Gordon had more things on his mind than Alfred Pennyworth—a lot more. But the man had helped him, and especially Bruce, in ways that Gordon would never be able to repay. He owed it to him to look into this woman. He typed a few things into his computer and pressed the Enter key. 

Anya MacAteer, alias Danielle Boyle, DOB 6 April 1964, Belfast, Northern Ireland  
Previous convictions: None  
Previous arrests: Disturbing the peace, Soliciting, Belfast, 1989—charges dropped  
Breaking and entering, Gotham City, 1992—charges dropped  
Known associates: Unknown 

He scrolled down the page, but there was nothing else. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. He picked up his phone to call Alfred, but changed his mind. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and threw it on as he headed to his car. 

****  
Alfred was outside, talking to the gardener, when Gordon pulled up in the long driveway of Wayne Manor. He nodded at Jim as the detective walked towards him. Once the gardener had been sent on his way, Gordon spoke. 

“Alfred, I hope I’m not intruding, but I found out a few things I thought you’d want to hear right away.” 

“Of course, of course.” Alfred stood his ground, waiting for Gordon to continue.

Jim looked at the closed door. “Should we…?”

“Oh, well, Master Bruce is in there, and I don’t…”

“Understood. Well, if it’s the same woman, and I’m betting that it is, then your Danny’s real name is Anya MacAteer and she moved here sometime between 1989 and 1992.”

Alfred nodded. “How did you find her?”

“GCPD has her on file. Some soliciting back in Belfast, and a B&E over here, but all charges were dropped. Was she a hooker when you—when you knew her?”

Alfred shuffled the envelopes in his hands. The postman had been late today. “No, I don’t think so.”

“The boy must have been born earlier in 1989, and she probably turned to prostitution to support them both.” 

“Yes. That’s…awful…” 

Gordon had never seen Alfred this way—he was used to the man’s tough-as-nails confidence, and this new humility, or whatever it was, made Jim feel awkward. “It’s not your fault, Alfred. You couldn’t have known.” The butler didn’t reply, so he went on. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“Bruce came to see me earlier today. He wanted to know if I knew about your SAS past, that you’d killed a lot of people. He asked me if I knew if you’d killed any civilians.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him he should ask you.”

“He did. I never gave him an answer. I don’t want him to think of me that way.”

“He knows you’re a good man, Alfred.”

Alfred focused his startling blue eyes on the detective’s brown ones. “Am I?”  
Gordon looked at the pavement and kicked uncomfortably at a pebble. “Look, Harvey and I will stay on this. We’ll ask around a bit, see if we can find out if she’s ever worked for any of the gangs here. Okay?” 

“All right. Thank you, Jim.” 

Gordon nodded and headed back to his car. As he drove off, Alfred was deep in thought. Had Danny been a hooker? He couldn’t possibly remember. He certainly had been with “comfort women” during his time in the army, but when she’d spoken to him recently, she hadn’t made it sound like she’d been a pro that night. Still…why the alias? She must have been mixed up in something. Maybe the IRA? 

Bruce appeared at the door. “Was that Jim Gordon I saw, Alfred? What was he doing here?”

Alfred ushered Bruce back inside. “Oh, it was nothing, Master Bruce. Don’t you worry about it.” He threw the mail onto a hall table and walked back to the kitchen. 

Bruce Wayne watched him go. What’s going on, Alfred? He decided to find out for himself. 

Chapter 7

Bruce had heard the phone ring early in the afternoon, just after Gordon had left. He’d listened through the panelled door to Alfred’s conversation:

“I’m sorry about that, I just couldn’t get away….Yes, yes I know I promised I’d be there, Danny, but something came up….I will, I will. I want to know as badly as you do….Well, I’ve—I’ve changed my mind, haven’t I?....All right, I’ll meet you there tonight….What, why?....Fine, I’ll pick you up at your hotel.” He’d put the phone down and Bruce had scooted off down the hallway before Alfred could open the door. 

Now, his butler, guardian, and protector was at the front door, getting ready to leave the house, presumably to pick up this Danny person. Not having either a car or a driver’s license of his own, Bruce needed a way to follow Alfred. Quickly, he came up with a plan. Half-baked as it was, it might be enough to fool the old soldier in his present distracted condition. He approached cautiously, trying to keep his voice light. 

“Alfred?”

Alfred pulled a wool scarf off the coatrack and draped it around his neck. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

“I think I would like to go to the movies tonight. Will you take me into the city, please?”

Alfred answered without hesitation. “No.” 

Bruce’s voice changed from that of a self-possessed employer to one of childish frustration. “Why not?” he whined. “How come you can leave this place and I can’t?”

Alfred had his hand on the doorknob. “Because I don’t think it’s safe, Master Bruce. My job is to keep you safe, and that’s my decision. You expect me to let you go to a darkened movie theatre all by yourself?”

“I won’t be alone, Alfred. Selena will be with me.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s just fine and dandy, then. I’m sure she never gets into any trouble at all. She’ll meet you there right after she’s done taking cookies to old ladies in rest homes, will she?”

“Alfred, you know she can look after herself.” He swallowed his boyish pride. “And me.”   
Alfred took his pocket watch out and looked at it. He sighed. “Fine. Get your coat—it’s cold out tonight. And you ring me if there’s any sign of danger, yes?”

“Yes, I promise.” Bruce grabbed his coat and scarf and together, they left. 

****  
Alfred dropped Bruce off in front of the movie theatre and watched him walk through the doors. The second he saw Alfred’s car turn the corner, Bruce ran back out to the street and hailed a cab. Climbing into the back, he ordered, “Follow that car!”

The cabbie turned to study his young fare. “This ain’t a movie, kid. Where to?”

Bruce grabbed a handful of bills from his pocket and stuffed them in the man’s face. “Please. Follow that car.” 

The cabbie shrugged and pulled into traffic. 

****  
When Alfred knocked on Danny’s door, she opened it wearing nothing but a green silk robe that matched her eyes. 

“You’re not ready,” he stated impatiently. 

“Oh, yes I am,” she cooed, beckoning him into the room. 

“Funny. Look, I thought you wanted to get this DNA business over with.” He looked around. “Where’s the boy, anyway?”

“He’s got an adjoining room. With an X-Box. I’m sure he’s busy playing some wretchedly violent video game right now. Don’t worry about him, or the DNA. We’ll get to it.” 

Alfred watched as she undid her robe and it slid into a soft pile on the carpeted floor. After a quick glance down the length of her body, he held her gaze. “I can’t understand you, Danny. Or should I say Anya?” She didn’t react. “You say I treated you worse than a hoor, yet here you are, practically begging me to use you. I’m beginning to think you’re a bit of a masochist.” He took a step toward her naked body. “Aren’t you?” 

“You can call me whatever you like, Alfred. It doesn’t bother me.” She reached up and started to unbutton his overcoat. “I’ll admit, my impulses toward you are anything but rational. But do you really care?” She pushed the coat off his shoulders and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. 

He was down to just a dress shirt and trousers before he stopped her, grabbing her wrists and squeezing hard. “Stop it.”

“Why? Didn’t we have a good time last night, before that kid walked in?”

At the mention of Bruce, Alfred felt his erection droop. Would Cat really be able to protect him? He should never have let him go off like that. 

While he was thinking of Bruce, Danny wriggled free of Alfred’s grasp and started on his belt buckle. Quick as a magician, her hand was inside his pants. 

“Dammit, I said stop it!” He gave her shoulders a rough shove and she flew back into the room, stumbling and landing in a startled heap on the pristinely made king-sized bed. Seeing her there, sprawled against the bedclothes with a hungry look on her face, he gave in. “Fine. Fine, fine.” He leapt towards her, pulling down his pants and boxer shorts as he went. When he reached her, he pulled her limbs into a better position and climbed on top of her. “Is this what you want?” 

As he entered her, she clawed at his chest, eventually ripping open the remaining few buttons of his shirt so that it hung open over his otherwise naked body. He hadn’t bothered to see if she was ready this time, but Danny didn’t care. As a mild pain seared through her lower extremities, she smiled. “Hit me,” she whispered. “Pull my hair.” 

Alfred raised a hand to slap her, then stopped himself. Still panting, he extricated his body from hers and stood up. “No. I don’t care if you want it, I won’t do it. Hit yourself if you like, but I’ll have no part of it. You are one messed up lady, Danny.” 

She started to cry, hugging his legs to her chest. “It’s your fault! Please don’t go. Please! We can do whatever you like, however you like. I promise.” 

Her tears softened his hardened heart. He knelt beside the bed and kissed her, very gently. His hands found her breasts and his fingers played with her nipples as he explored her mouth with his tongue. “Come back to bed,” she urged. He lay down on his back beside her, one hand stroking her pussy. She squirmed beneath his touch until she could stand it no longer. Throwing one leg across his hips, she straddled him, and lowered herself onto his huge, stiff cock. Her cunt was so wet that she slipped over him with ease, grinding her body hard against his. She reached down behind herself and cupped his balls, massaging them gently as she fucked him. Alfred moaned, relishing this chance to give up his usual dominance. 

He didn’t see the small face peeking through a crack in the balcony’s curtains. Bruce stood in the cold, rooted in shock. His mouth hung open in disbelief. So Danny was a woman—the woman. And she had seduced Alfred again. As the moans from inside the room got louder, Bruce tried to close his eyes, to turn away, but found he couldn’t. Shame spread in pink waves over his face and neck as he realized that his teenaged body was enjoying the show. 

Chapter 8

Two hours later, back in the alley outside the hotel, Bruce called Alfred’s phone and told him that Selena would see him home. He took a cab back to Wayne Manor, his mind full of guilt and confusion. 

Alfred, on the other hand, was starting to warm up to this S&M nonsense. He had allowed Danny to tie him up, his wrists bound together above his head and then secured to the headboard. She was standing in front of him now, a long whip in her right hand. Instinctively, he winced. He’d been hit with a whip before, by Tabitha Galavan, and he still remembered how much it had hurt. “Go easy on me, eh?” he pleaded. He was starting to regret this already. Never give anyone power over you—that was almost rule number one in the SAS. 

Danny brought the whip down across Alfred’s chest first, then his legs. He managed to stop himself from crying out, until he saw it flick toward his balls. The scream was out of his throat even before the thin leather strap hit him, searing into his flesh. “Danny, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he shouted hoarsely, desperately turning his body away from the offending weapon. This movement succeeded in protecting his most tender areas, but the whip came down on his bare ass and back instead. “Please, Danny, I’m not enjoying this! I told you we needed a safe word!” He struggled at his bonds, using all his strength in an effort to rip his arms away from the headboard. Finally, he did it—his wrists were still tied together, but he was free. He rolled off the bed and rushed toward her. 

“Stay back!” she shouted, cracking the whip into his side as he stood. 

Alfred ignored her warning and ploughed into her, knocking her over and landing on top of her. He pinned her down with his muscular legs and wrapped his tied arms around her neck, holding on. She tried to whip him again, but it didn’t work. The hand holding the whip fell open. 

“What the hell did you do that for, you lunatic?” Alfred shouted, releasing her. “Who are you working for?” He sat up and grabbed the whip away from her, then started to gnaw through the rope around his wrists. His balls and back were aching. 

“No one! I don’t know what you mean. You knew I was into this. I just didn’t know you’d be such a baby about it!” 

Alfred’s temper almost got the better of him. He bit his lip until he could taste blood, to avoid giving her a hard punch in the face. His wrists freed, he gingerly pulled on his pants. “Right. I’m a baby. Think what you like, you crazy bitch. I’ll get this test done and then I’ll get you out of my life forever. I’m done playing with you.” 

“You might not have a choice.” 

“What’s that?”

“When the test says that you’re Alfred’s father, what are you going to do? Just pretend neither of us exists?”

Alfred was buttoning up his shirt and discovering that it was now missing two buttons. He made a mental note to do some mending tomorrow morning. “If he’s my son, I’ll take responsibility. But I don’t need to see you to do that.” 

She looked like she was going to cry again. He pulled on his jacket, threw the whip far into the room, and opened the door. 

“Alfred, don’t go yet--”

“Fuck you.” He slammed the door behind him. 

***  
When Alfred got home, Bruce was sitting by the door waiting for him. “I followed you tonight,” he whispered into the darkness. 

Alfred switched on a nearby lamp. “You what??” A wave of nausea hit him in the gut. Had the boy seen it all, again??

Bruce had already decided not to reveal the extent of what he had seen. He was too embarrassed, and he knew Alfred would be, too. “I was worried about you, and I wanted to know who you were going to meet, and why. So I followed you in a cab to that hotel, and I—I saw that you were meeting that woman.” He blushed.

Alfred sighed. “Master Bruce…what did you see?”

“Just that you knocked on her door and went inside—that’s all.”

“Really?” Alfred’s tone betrayed his disbelief. 

“Really.” 

Then again, the boy sounded sincere, and how could he possibly have seen what they’d gotten up to behind the closed door, anyway? Alfred decided he’d believe him. He walked over to Bruce and grabbed a fistful of the boy’s shirt, pulling him up and bending over him. “Don’t—do—that—ever—again, got it?” he said through clenched teeth. 

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, Alfred, I won’t do it again.”

“What I do is my business, innit? You’ve got no right to follow me anywhere. It’s dangerous.” The boy’s chestnut eyes were wide with not-quite-fear. Alfred set him back down gently, releasing his shirt and smoothing it. “Right. We’ll say no more about this, then.” 

“But Alfred--”

“I said, we’ll say no more about it! Now get to bed. Would you like me to bring you a hot cup of tea? Something herbal to help you sleep?” Alfred was back in nurturing mode, walking to the kitchen to find his apron. Bruce could do nothing but agree. 

Chapter 9

That night, Alfred tossed and turned again. Ever since his time with the SAS in Northern Ireland, he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours a night. He’d often while away the hours by cleaning—dusting the Waynes’ expensive knick-knacks, polishing the silver tea service, cleaning his guns—and not retire until the early hours of morning. When he did fall into an uneasy, sweaty sleep, his troubled mind was filled with bloody faces, screaming silently at him, mouths wide open in pain and terror. He’d wake up suddenly, heart pounding, clutching the sheets in both fists. Now, in addition to his usual PTSD issues, he had other problems to worry him. Danny, Bruce, Alfred Junior… Was the boy really his son? He would find out in the morning. No use delaying the test any longer. Maybe if Danny got some kind of closure, she would leave him alone. Was that what he really wanted, though? To be left alone? It had been months, almost a year, since he’d had a woman. She had come along right when he’d needed her most. She was fucked up, for sure, but then so was he. And wasn’t he at least partly to blame? Alfred wiped the perspiration from his brow and turned to the nearest window. An eerie orange light was filtering in through the lace curtain, illuminating half of his bed. He studied his body, now bathed in the artificial glow from the security light outside. He was getting older, but he was still firm and toned. Could the woman really be interested in him, though, or was she using him to get at Bruce? Was there some plan that he just couldn’t see? 

At 6 am, the telephone beside his head woke him from a fitful sleep. He grabbed it on the fifth ring. “Hello? Wayne residence.” 

“Alfred, don’t forget your promise. You swore you’d be here.”

He squinted at the clock. “And I will. Eight o’clock, we said.”

“I just wanted to make sure.” Danny hung up the phone. 

Dammit! Alfred rolled over and groaned. Today would be a good day to stay in bed. Pretend the outside world didn’t exist at all. But that wasn’t who he was. He would face whatever he had to. Slowly, he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on his pants. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that she’d woken him early. If he left now, he could sneak out without telling Bruce. 

***  
Two hours later, Alfred, Danny, and Alfred Junior were in a waiting room, making uncomfortable small talk as they waited for the nurse. 

“Freddie, did you know that your fa—that Alfred here once lived in Ireland, just like your mother?”

Freddie looked terrified. 

Alfred mumbled, “Only for a short time.” Seeing the pained look on the boy’s face, he added feebly, “Beautiful country.” 

Mercifully, the nurse arrived and they all got busy giving their DNA samples. Alfred wasn’t even prepared to believe that Danny was the boy’s mother, so she had agreed to do one as well. By paying a ridiculous sum of money, they were going to have their tests fast-tracked: the results should be ready in a few days. 

Back home, Alfred decided it was time to tell Bruce the truth. Once the young Wayne was done his breakfast, Alfred asked him into the library for a chat. 

“Sit down, Master Bruce.”

Bruce sat, looking bewilderedly up at his friend and guardian as Alfred paced nervously around the room. 

Eventually, he spoke. “Look, Master Bruce, I know you are aware that I…that I’ve been seeing a woman recently.”

Bruce nodded. Oh, he was aware, all right! 

“Well, this is a woman I knew many years ago, when I was in the SAS, in Northern Ireland.”

“You never talk about those days, Alfred. I only know about them at all because of Reggie.”

“Yes, well, let’s not bring him up. I haven’t told you about it because it’s not a very nice bedtime story for little boys, but you’re getting older now, and maybe it’s time I was honest with you.” 

“I’d appreciate that.” 

Alfred looked at Bruce—the dark-haired, big-eyed boy he’d been protecting for years, the gentle, soft-spoken child who was now becoming a man. He sat down beside him, much closer than he normally would, and spoke to him as an equal. “Bruce, I did a lot of things in the army that I’m not proud of. You can probably imagine that I killed some people—the enemy. But what you might not realize is that it’s very difficult sometimes to tell who the enemy really is, or even if they’re actually your enemy at all. And sometimes the enemy is really just a bunch of teenaged boys who are angry that their fathers have been thrown in jail.” He paused, but Bruce was too rapt to speak. “I killed some people who really didn’t deserve to be killed, Bruce. I thought I could handle it—I thought I was a tough guy. But ever since…” He wiped a tear from his eye. “That’s why I didn’t want you to kill Galavan, or anyone else. I don’t want you to end up like me, son.” 

Bruce had tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Alfred. “Oh, Alfred, don’t you know you’re my role model? Nothing you can say can change that! I know who you are.” 

Alfred choked back his emotions, separated himself from the boy, and continued. “There’s something else. I met that woman while I was in the midst of one of the most horrible times of my life. I was damaged, psychologically, and I was drunk. I’m afraid I didn’t treat her very well. Not very well at all. But we—she says that her son is mine. That I might have a son. I don’t know yet if it’s true, but I felt I should tell you.” 

Bruce was stunned. Alfred was normally so composed, so sure of himself. He didn’t like to see the man looking so dejected and lost. He felt really badly about spying on him, too. “Don’t worry about it, Alfred. No matter if it’s true or not, you will always have a place here, in my home.” 

“Thank you, Master Bruce. I thank you for that.” He rose quickly. “Now, I’ve got work to do.” He walked off briskly to the kitchen but as soon as he was out of Bruce’s sight, Alfred leaned against the wall and cried. 

 

Chapter 10

Three nights later, Alfred was still anxiously waiting for the results of his paternity test, polishing the mahogany bannister so hard he nearly wore a hole through it, when he heard a shout coming from upstairs. 

He leapt up the stairs two at a time and grabbed a decorative sword off the wall in the hall as he ran to Bruce’s room. He threw open the door, holding the sword out in front of him. Bruce was standing in the middle of the room. His window was open, a breeze ruffling the drapes. Alfred glanced to the left and right. Two figures were standing at the end of the room, one taller than the other. As the shorter one came towards him, he lowered the sword. “What are you doing here?” 

“That’s one overreacting manservant you’ve got there, Bruce,” said Selena, throwing herself onto the soft bed. 

“You get your damn dirty boots off that bedspread, miss!” Alfred shook his finger at her, but she didn’t budge. He looked to his young master. “You all right, Master Bruce? I heard shouting…” 

“It’s okay, Alfred. Ivy and I were just having a disagreement.” 

The butler looked at the second figure standing in the shadows. She walked into the light, showing him a voluptuous young body sheathed in a very tight, short green dress. These women and their dresses! he thought. She had fiery red hair and curves that wouldn’t quit, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her lips curled up into a seductive smile and she held out a hand to him. “Pleased to meet you.” 

As he took her small hand in his own, he felt a jolt of something strange surge through his body. When he examined his palm, it held traces of something that looked a lot like oregano. Ivy was looking at him, beckoning him toward her with one crooked finger. He took a step forward. 

“Alfred, don’t! Ivy, you promised…” Bruce whined. 

Ivy laid a hand on Alfred’s chest and smiled up at him. His eyes were a gorgeous turquoise blue. “Oh come on, Bruce. Let the man have a little fun once in a while. I won’t hurt him. Much.” 

“Yes, Master Bruce. Listen to the lady.” Alfred had locked eyes with Ivy. He was standing stock still, but all of his tightly wound energy was clearly simmering not far beneath his clothing-restricted exterior. 

Bruce pouted. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He gestured to Selena and they left, climbing out through the open window. 

Ivy began to undress Alfred, talking softly to him all the time. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to do whatever I want you to. First we’re going to have some fun, and then you’re going to give me the key to the wall safe—the one where you keep your guns.” 

Alfred nodded his compliance. His jacket, vest, and tie were on the floor and his shirt was hanging open. When she reached for his zipper, he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her hard on the lips. Her hand was inside his pants now. “How—how old are you?” he gasped.   
“Does it matter?” she teased.

“Of course it bloody does!” he whispered hoarsely. 

“Old enough.” 

Satisfied, he relaxed into her stroking attentions, feeling all his pent-up anxiety traveling down his body to focus on the warm and growing hunk of flesh in her hand. He pushed his pants down to give her easier access and got to work trying to open her dress. It was tied at the side and his big fingers fumbled with the knot. 

“Let me,” she said, brushing his hand away. She quickly undid the tie and unwrapped herself like a Christmas present, revealing a green velvet corset, matching G-string, and garters connected to black thigh-high stockings. He admired his gift for a few seconds before advancing on her. Luckily, she had put the G-string on last, so he was able to pull it down and off. Now he had a choice to make: give some love to the creamy breasts spilling out over the top of the corset or direct his energies to her neatly trimmed pussy. He decided to do both, burying his face in her breasts and groping between her legs at the same time. Ivy squealed with delight, turning herself on with the power she held over him. She backed up to a nearby desk and sat on the edge of it as they kissed, Alfred’s tongue plunging deep into her mouth. His hands moved to her hips and when she wrapped her long legs around him, he scooped her up with both hands under her ass and she clung onto his waist with her strong thighs, arms dangling around his neck. He walked backwards with her wrapped around him like a monkey to a tree trunk until the backs of his legs hit the bed. Her hands pushed against his chest and he fell onto his back on the mattress, with her still on top of him. She untangled her legs and straddled his hips, feeling his erection push back against her wetness. Grabbing his ready cock in one hand, she guided it into her hot center, moaning as he filled her. He reached up and squeezed her ample breasts as she rode him, faster and faster. Just as he was about to come, she pulled herself off of him and stood up. An anguished cry escaped his throat and he tried to grab her leg, but she jumped away. 

“No, no, not yet!” she teased. “Not until I have what I want.” 

Chapter 11

Alfred had given Ivy all the guns in the safe (luckily she didn’t know about the arsenal in the cave) and she was tying her dress back up, much to his chagrin, when the bedroom door swung open. Alfred grabbed a blanket from the bed and tried to cover himself, thinking Bruce had returned unexpectedly. But the figure standing in the doorway was not Bruce. It was Danny. She looked from one to the other of them, making a clucking sound with her tongue. 

“How did you get in here?” Alfred demanded. 

“Never mind that. I seem to have interrupted something interesting,” she smiled. 

Ivy walked over to the Irishwoman and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Ivy. And you’re…?”

Danny looked the young redhead up and down, licking her lips. It had been a while since she’d been with a woman. “Danny. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Likewise. Say, Danny, now that we’re all old friends, would you like to join us?” She had a potion in her purse that she could use, but she didn’t think Danny would need it. 

As Alfred watched, astonished, Danny planted her lips on Ivy’s and kissed her. The spell was beginning to wear off but he had no intention of putting a stop to anything. Not yet. 

Danny reached a hand inside Ivy’s dress, cupping her left breast. Ivy moaned softly and returned the favour, plunging her tongue into Danny’s mouth as she did so. Soon, both women were undressing themselves, hurriedly unclasping and pulling down more sexy undergarments than Alfred had seen in years. He sat down on the bed to watch, the blanket forming a small tent on his lap. Danny was older and quite sure of herself, so she took the lead. She pushed Ivy, who was now naked again, into an armchair and kneeled on the rug in front of her. She buried her dark head between the villain’s thighs and drank her poison, licking the younger woman’s swollen pussy like an expert. At the same time, she played with her clit, one long-nailed finger flicking back and forth. Danny’s body moved as she worked, her full hips and ass wiggling, much to Alfred’s delight. Ivy reached down and grabbed for Danny’s pendulous breasts, then pulled her up to kiss her. Danny, knees bent, straddled Ivy’s lap and French-kissed her mouth again, then trailed her lips down to the redhead’s creamy breasts and large, pink nipples, sucking hard on each. Ivy’s fingers found Danny’s wet pussy and played with it, all while watching Alfred watching them. She licked her fingers clean and motioned for him to come near. 

“What, me?” Alfred pretended to look around. “You seem to be getting along very well without a man.” Nevertheless, he got off the bed and padded over to them, naked as a newborn. He went up behind Danny and laid his hands on her hips. 

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Well come on, then,” she smiled. He could see no trace of the whip-wielding maniac he’d met before, only a hot, horny woman purring with pleasure. He looked at Ivy. Her spell was gone, and he didn’t trust her at all. He made a mental note to take his guns back before she left but for now, she didn’t seem to be in a position to hurt him. She was fondling Danny’s breasts, and they were both waiting for him to do something. He entered Danny from behind, his cock sliding easily into her wet warmth. Still frustrated from before, he was determined to get his release this time. As he fucked her, the women continued to touch and kiss each other until Ivy tried to push Danny off. 

“My turn!” she said, narrowing her eyes at Alfred. 

But Alfred stayed put, using all his weight and strength to keep Ivy pinned down by Danny’s body. Nothing was going to stop him this time. Ivy glared at him but Danny groaned in ecstasy as he fucked her harder. Moments later, he was about to come and realized he hadn’t followed his own advice: he wasn’t wearing a condom. The last thing he needed was to get her pregnant again! Cursing under his breath, he pulled out into the cold air and came all over Danny’s shapely ass, instead. Now that he was finished, his usual wariness returned in full force. He handed Danny a box of tissues and dressed quickly, his eyes searching the room for wherever Ivy had hidden his guns. 

She saw what he was thinking and gave Danny a shove, sending her tumbling backwards onto the floor. The voluptuous redhead rose and headed for the corner of the room, but Alfred got there first. The weapons were half-hidden behind a bookshelf. He pulled them out and trained a pistol on her. “Don’t think about trying anything and I won’t have to shoot you,” he told her. Ivy laughed and ran towards him, kicking out at his gun hand with her right leg. He caught it with his left hand and held on, causing her to fall over. “I mean it,” he warned. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t get out of this house within the next thirty seconds, I will.” 

“But Alfred, after what we’ve just been through, I thought we were friends!” she pouted. She was a bad actress. 

“We’re not. I don’t give a toss about you. Ten seconds left.” 

Ivy grabbed her pile of clothes from the floor and ran from the room, just as he lunged for her. He let her go, listening to her feet on the stairs. When the front door slammed, he looked out the window to make sure she was gone. She was running down the driveway, holding her dress around her. He turned back into the room. One more to deal with. 

Danny had cleaned herself up and was pulling up her panties. She looked gorgeous, he had to admit to himself, with her cheeks all flushed and her hair flying every which way. Her eye makeup had smudged and her lips, slightly parted, looked swollen and red. He bid a silent farewell to her marvelous breasts as she adjusted her bra and looked up at him. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I came here?” 

“I thought you came for sex.” 

“No.” She stood up and pulled her dress over her head—a long black number this time. 

“Well, what then?” He was getting impatient and feeling angry with himself for wanting to fuck her again, without an audience this time. 

“I came to tell you that we have the results. Congratulations, it’s a boy.”


End file.
